Love Connection
by kandisi
Summary: Slash. After a few bad chats with several guys secretly known to him, Sylar meets cuteempath in an online chat room, and they arrange to hook up at a local bar. But, Sylar is *shocked* when cuteempath turns out to be none other than Peter Petrelli.


**Title:** Love Connection  
**Author:** sapphire17f  
**Pairings/Characters:** Peter/Sylar  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** After a few bad chats with several guys secretly known to him, Sylar meets cuteeempath in an online chat room, and they arrange to hook up at a local bar. Needless to say, Sylar is VERY shocked when cuteempath turns out to be none other than Peter Petrelli...  
**Spoilers:** Up to 'The Fifth Stage'.  
**Prompt:** #4 5drunkfics, _Confessionsf_

**Love Connection**

Sylar sat before the laptop's monitor, eagerly chatting away on InteractiveMaledotcom. He was looking to get laid, yeah... God help him should he get screwed over on this goddamned site. The guy he was currently chatting with went by the name of 'SexyScientist', and for some reason, seemed sort of familiar to Sylar... But oh well. Sylar was going to hook up with SOMEBODY that night if it KILLED him, despite how hard that was to do. He hoped he had more success this time around than he had last time... The last time, Sylar had tried Chemistrydotcom, and ended up going to strip club to see a bald, 45-year old man who was heavily overweight who'd been posing as a 27 year-old trainer who worked at 24 Hour Fitness.

Of course, Sylar had killed that guy.

In a very painful way.

Realizing that he was getting distracted from his chat, Sylar once again redirected the glance of his eyes back to his laptop and typed away...

**Superhumanguy:** how tall r u?  
**SexyScientist:** I'm tall enough. How bout' you?  
**Superhumanguy:** i'm tall. taller than u, probably. how old r u?  
**SexyScientist:** I'm... 25.  
**Superhumanguy:** r u sure ur not really 45 or 60 or somethin just tryng to land sum boys hawt young ass?  
**SexyScientist:** Let me get on webcam and prove it.  
**Superhumanguy: **ok.

A window popped open on Sylar's monitor.

And...

".GOD. Mo-MOHINDER...?" Sylar gasped, his jaw dropping significantly. Mohinder was stark naked!

**SexyScientist:** You like?  
**Superhumanguy:** mohinder, i never knew u were n to that sort of thing.

Mohinder promptly put a heart-shaped pillow in his lap.

**SexyScientist:** Who the hell IS THIS?  
**Superhumanguy:** it's nathan petrelli, from the afterlife, yo.  
**SexyScientist:** SYLAR? OH MY FUCKING GAWD! YOU FUCKING BITCH I'M GONNA KILL YOU! WHERE ARE YOU JUST TELL ME SO I CAN COME POUND YOUR ASS INTO THE FLOOR!  
**Superhumanguy:** ...that didn't sound right.  
**SexyScientist:** Fuck you, you pervert.

Sylar sighed, and closed the chat window. Time to try another guy. Hmm, how about hawtasianboy? Sylar had always had a bit of an Asian fetish, ever since Tila Tequila... Yeah, Gabriel'd had problems. Not Sylar. Gabriel was the one who watched reality T.V..

Now Sylar.

Sigh.

**Superhumanguy:** hey there. how u doing?  
**hawtasianboy:** i is dongin bery godo, hasi, oi. you?  
**Superhumanguy:** ...do u speak english?  
**hawtasianboy:** no to good. usaully my boyfrind tranlatses for me bu we borke up ater he left me for my sitster. thats wyh im here on this site, to maake him jilous. so like, shikkusu-nain suki.  
**Superhumanguy:** ...whut...?  
**hawtasianboy:** shikkusu-nain suki.  
**Superhumanguy: i** dont know what the hell ur talking about, hawtasianboy.  
**hawtasianboy:** ok, then bakku-de shiyo. doggy-style ftw.

Sylar swallowed and quickly closed the chat window.

Yikes... just, yikes...

Little did Sylar know that Hiro Nakamura could be that kinky.

Sylar hesitantly clicked on another name in the chat room

**Superhumanguy:** whats up?  
**BigToughCompanyMan:** My dick.  
**Superhumanguy:** wtf.  
**BigToughCompanyMan:** You like leather? I have a whole collection. Ever been in a sling?  
**Superhumanguy:** ur a fucking perv. get n ur own fucking sling, jackass.  
**BigToughCompanyMan:** Playing hard to get, are you? Why don't you send me some pics of yourself, naked and hard as you finger-fuck that tight ass of yours.  
**Superhumanguy:** go to hell, dipshit. when was the last time u got laid, anyways?  
**BigToughCompanyMan:** Five minutes ago. Her name is Lauren, and she's in my bed right now. We're looking for a hot young man to come have a threesome with us, and from your bio, you sound sexy enough.  
**Superhumanguy:** fuck off, bitch, go get pegged.

Sylar closed the window yet again, and let out an angry grunt.

Sylar didn't know it, or well, yeah, he did, but Noah Bennet was secretly almost as perverted as Hiro.

Not quite, but yeah... almost there.

Sylar clicked on yet another name in the gay chat room, wondering who he would meet this time.

**Superhumanguy:** hey there. u hawt?  
**HotYoungAss:** why yes i am. hold on, my mom wants to use the computer again, i gotta tell her to fuck off. kay, back.  
**Superhumanguy:** ...how old r u?  
**HotYoungAss:** 17. u like young ass?  
**Superhumanguy:** ...not really. i was lookng for someone more my own age...  
**HotYoungAss:** spoilsport. check out my bio and you'll change your mind.

And so, Sylar checked out the bio of HotYoungAss.

Sylar read it, and read the part on 'what he was looking for in a guy'. Hmm... about six feet tall, well built, brown eyes, dark hair, and a... fetish for brains? WTF?

Then, everything clicked into place.

**Superhumanguy:** LUKE?!!!?!!  
**HotYoungAss:** ...who is this?  
**Superhumanguy:** ur principle.  
**HotYoungAss:** oh fuck, mr. meyers, you mother fucker. i told u i wasn't interested in u you fucking piece of shit, if only my boyfriend was here he'd telekinetically haul your sorry fat ass into a wall and slice your head open!!!!

Sylar frowned, typing some more. He had always known that Luke Campbell had had a thing for him, but Sylar was NOT so perverted that he would willingly screw a minor.

**Superhumanguy:** i'm not ur principle, luke. i was just joking around. this is sylar, and no luke, we are not hooking up.  
**HotYoungAss:** sylar? oh my god! come over to my house, plz. i'll make it worth your while.  
**Superhumanguy:** luke, u r 2 young 4 this chat. get off now.  
**HotYoungAss:** i'd be getting off if u were here.  
**Superhumanguy:** i'm leaving now, 2 got find somebody my OWN AGE. i suggest U DO THE SAME, KID.

Sylar closed the chat box, and frowned again.

Goddamnit, Sylar was NOT having the best of luck. So far he'd had Mohinder, two perverts, and a 17 year-old boy.

WTF?

Sylar clicked on another name, this time the name of some guy who went by 'InYourMind'.

**Superhumanguy:** hello.  
**InYourMind:** Hey there.  
**Superhumanguy:** how r u?  
**InYourMind:** I'm just a divorced-and-yet-married-guy looking for a quick, meaningless fuck with no strings attached.

Sylar frowned, a-gain. He didn't like the sound of this.

**Superhumanguy:** well, yeah... why are you looking for a 'quick fuck' if ur married?  
**InYourMind:** Because I have needs, just like everyone else, and my wife hasn't wanted to fuck me ever since I got this crazy guy outta my head.  
**Superhumanguy:** are u a schizoid or something?  
**InYourMind:** I was.  
**Superhumanguy:** i guess i can relate to that. i mean, i had my mother and this other dead guy Nathan in my head for awhile.  
**InYourMind:** ...Sylar...?  
**Superhumanguy:** who the fuck is this...?  
**InYourMind:** It's Matt Parkman, fucker. You sick fuck... I'm gonna fucking murder you...

Sylar promptly closed the window, and decided to click on another name, some guy by the name of 'cuteempath', deciding that this would be his last run for the night. Fuck it. If this didn't work-out, Sylar could just rape Mohinder or something. You couldn't rape the willing, after all, and he had Mohinder had had some pretty steamy nights in the seedy motels.

**Superhumanguy:** hello there. whuts ur name?  
**cuteempath:** If you're going to chat with me, hit on me, etc, PLEASE you 'proper English', grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. No 'ur's, 'k's, 'whut's, etc, and PLEASE use caps. I don't mind 'lol' and 'wtf' once in awhile, though, as long as they're not just plain abused. Also no 'XD' faces and such. For the love of God, if you MUST do that, use smilies, at least.

Sylar shivered. For some reason, he liked this guy... FINALLY somebody with a brain, who wasn't Mohinder, wasn't a pervert, wasn't 17 (or so Sylar thought), and could speak English. Whoever this was seemed like a total control-freak, and that turned Sylar on.

**Superhumanguy:** LOL. XD k, I mean, 'okay'. You got any pics?  
**cuteempath:** Yes, but I don't show my pictures to perfect strangers.  
**Superhumanguy:** Sucks. But hey, tell me what you like to do when you go out?  
**cuteempath:** The usual stuff. Going to the movies, going out to dinner, especially Italian or Chinese like my brother used to love... I also like ice-skating, bowling, and cuddling on the couch watching movies with a cup of hot cocoa. So tell me, Superhumanguy, what do you do for a living?

Sylar paused. No one had ever asked him that before. He knew he couldn't say 'I kill people for a living', so he made something up.

**Superhumanguy:** I'm a lawyer.

Yeah, wtf, indeed.

**cuteempath:** For real? My brother was a lawyer at first, too. Where did you go to school at?

Sylar did a quick Google.

**Superhumanguy:** Berkeley.  
**cuteempath:** ...You're not really a lawyer, are you? That took you too long to answer, so I'm guessing you Googled law schools.

Fuck.

This guy was smart!

But that just made Sylar want him even more...

**Superhumanguy:** Yes, I am. My dog was barking at the back door, and I had to let him inside.

Save.

Pweh.

**cuteempath:** Oh, alright. You have a dog? That's awesome. I've never had any pets before, what with my job and all, I never had the time, and my Ma's allergic.  
**Superhumanguy:** Where do you work?  
**cuteempath:** I work in a hospital, at the ER.  
**Superhumanguy:** Cute, very cute.  
**cuteempath:** *blushes* thanks. So do you want to meet?

Sylar grinned.

Score!

**Superhumanguy:** You live here in NYC, right? Well, I'll let you pick the place.  
**cuteempath:** How about Tonic East on 29th street and 3rd avenue? You know of it?  
**Superhumanguy:** Never been there, but yeah, I know of it. Sure, sounds great. What time?  
**cuteempath:** Eight o' clock okay? But I can't stay out any later than eleven p.m., I have the nightshift tonight.  
**Superhumanguy:** Sounds good. But, how will I know who to look for since I don't know what you look like?  
**cuteempath:** I'll be sitting on the very end of the bar, closest to the stage, drinking an apple martini.  
**Superhumanguy:** Okay! See you then!  
**cuteempath:** See you. Bye!

Sylar signed off of the internet, and then sniffed. The bodies of the couple he had killed to take over their apartment were starting to rot... One of them had possessed an ability, the ability of telescopic vision.

Sylar went to the closet and opened it, getting out the new clothes he had bought with the dead man's credit cards. Of course, they were all black. Sylar almost always wore all black. Thank God Nathan was finally out of him. For the love of fuck, he had worn _pink_.

Pink.

Sylar didn't do pink.

Sylar swiftly changed, waited another hour as he shamefully watched 'A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila', before he headed off to Tonic East...

***

Sylar paid the cab driver handsomely, and then exited the vehicle, now standing at the entrance to the infamous Tonic East bar/club. It was a highlight for New York nightlife, according to what Sylar had read on the internet.

Sylar entered the bar, and was immediately greeted by the loud karaoke singing of some random drunk guy.

'_Cause' we all just wanna big rock stars and live in hilltop houses drivin' fifteen cars. The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap, we'll all stay skinny cause' we just want eat, and we'll hang out in the coolest bars in the VIP with the movie stars, every good gold digger's gonna wind up there every playboy bunny with her bleach-blonde hair, and well, hey, hey I wanna be a rock star...'_

Sylar chuckled to himself. The guy sang decently enough. Sylar even began to unconsciously whistle along to the song's tune.

Sylar eyed the bar, which was glowing pink.

Fucking pink.

Well.

Oh well.

Sylar's eyes wondered down to the end of the bar, where a young man dressed in black pants and a white shirt was seated, sipping an apple martini.

Again, score!

Sylar used his new power of enhanced vision to zoom-in on the young man's ass.

And it was such a great ass.

Sylar straightened out his black overshirt and walked down the bar, until he was behind the mysterious young man.

"Cuteempath? I've gotta say... you are cute."

The man turned around.

And two sets of eyes widened.

"SYLAR?!"

"PETER!"

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What the HELL?" Peter questioned, after having spit out a portion of his drink, "That was YOU I was chatting with?"

Sylar nodded. "Yeah... it-it was."

Peter smirked. "I so KNEW that you were NOT a lawyer..."

Sylar sat down on the stool next to Peter, and gestured to the bar tender.

"Whiskey, straight up. And five shots of tequila."

WTF?

"Five...?" the bartender questioned.

"High tolerance," Sylar replied, "Very, _very_ high tolerance... the highest imaginable."

Well.

It was true.

Because of Sylar's healing ability, he couldn't get drunk. To get even a small buzz, he had to slam back liquor as if his life depended on it before his healing ability kicked-in, and, shit, he needed a buzz now.

Badly.

The bartender returned with Sylar's whiskey, then pouring him five shots of golden tequila on top of it.

Sylar thanked him, and immediately began slamming.

"No I'm not a lawyer," Sylar said in between shots, "Would you have gone out with me if I had told you what I really did for a living?"

"Oh? You mean killing people like you killed my brother?" Peter hissed, then gesturing to the bartender as well.

"Vodka on the rocks, and make it a double," Peter requested. The bartender nodded, and soon returned with Peter's drink.

The bartender eyed Peter and Sylar suspiciously. "So like, are you to together?"

"NO!" Peter shouted out.

"...I meant your tabs, sir," the bartender replied.

"...Oh."

"Yeah, we're together," Sylar replied, laying a one-hundred dollar bill on the bar's smooth surface. "If we don't drink all of this away tonight, you can keep the change, and there's more where this came from, buddy."

"Okay!" the bartender happily stated, accepting the money before he went off to serve some more customers.

"Look, Peter," Sylar said, slamming another shot, and then another, "I'm not sorry I killed Nathan, because he was honestly a dick, but I am... I am sorry for what it did to you, Peter. This isn't you. I could see it the other day when you tortured me in the hospital with that nail gun, after you beat me into a bloody pulp. You've... changed... It's like—it's like you're not even Peter anymore, that sweet, and even cute empath who was always so passionate about saving the world. Now, all you care about is making me suffer."

"I will kill you, Sylar," Peter guaranteed, downing half of his vodka, "I will. You have my word. Maybe not today, but some day. You are going to pay for Nathan's death."

Sylar finished his last shot, and then, began gulping down his whiskey. It amazed Peter that Sylar was drinking like this, but, yeah, that was right—his healing ability. But... wait a minute, since Peter currently had the Haitian—Rene's—ability, didn't that mean...?

Sylar gestured the bar tender again, and ordered ten straight up shots of Jägermeister and three whiskeys.

Peter said nothing.

Sylar deserved this.

Sylar began downing shots one after another, until he _definitely_ felt something...

After the fourth shot, Sylar turned to Peter and said, "You look sexy tonight, Peter."

"I think you should slow down..." Peter finally said.

"Nonsense, I can't get drunk, remember?" Sylar replied, having two more shots before he downed one of his whiskeys. "Peter, you have got to be like, the hottest man on Earth..."

Peter flinched uncomfortably as Sylar eyed him as if he were a piece of eye-candy, finishing the rest of his vodka before he promptly ordered two more.

And then, things got even worse when Peter removed a pack of Marlboro light cigarettes and brought one to his mouth, lighting it nervously.

"Peter, what the fuck?" Sylar questioned, snatching the cigarette right out of Peter's mouth, "You don't smoke! Those things will KILL you!"

"I thought you wanted me dead?"

Sylar said nothing.

"I do."

Peter smirked, bringing another cigarette to his mouth before he lit it, and took a rather deep initial puff.

"How long have you been smoking?"

"Since now," Peter replied, taking another inhale.

Sylar sighed, slamming several more shots. The another. And another. He finished his remaining whiskeys, and then, ordered ten shots of EVERCLEAR and several more whiskeys, AMAZING the bartender.

He figured that this guy wanted to get good n' loaded tonight.

Probably because the guy with him didn't wanna fuck him.

Sylar took his first shot of Everclear, and gagged slightly. "Oh fuck, that shit is STRONG."

Peter sighed, taking one of the shots of Everclear for himself. "Yeah, it is."

Peter was starting to feel slightly buzzed, so he knew Sylar had to be feeling it.

"You're pretty," Sylar slurred, "Really, you are. You are so, sooooo purdy."

Sylar leaned forwards, and ran a hand back through Peter's bangs.

"Hey, hands OFF," Peter growled, knocking Sylar's hand away. Sylar only pouted.

"Do you hate me, Peter?"

"Yes."

Sylar pouted, a-gain.

"But I love you," Sylar drunkenly confessed, taking two more shots of freggin' Everclear, "I fucking love you, Peter. I would die for you. That's how much I love you, Peter Petrelli."

Peter blinked, shocked.

"Um, yeah..." Peter murmured, then taking another shot of Everclear for himself. He really, really wanted to get drunk now, which was new for Peter, since he rarely ever, every got drunk. He had only been drunk twice in his life, once when he was in college at some God-awful party when he had woken up in bed with some girl whose name he didn't even remember, and then again several days ago, right after 'Nathan' had taken the jump off the roof.

Needless to say, Peter had woken up with a killer hangover both times.

Sylar went silent, seemingly lost in the alcohol after that, as Peter went back to sipping on his vodka.

This continued.

For thirty minutes.

Neither of them barely saying a word.

Then Peter finally broke the silence when Sylar took Peter's package of cigarettes, removed one, brought it to his mouth, and lit it.

"Sylar, what the hell?" Peter questioned.

Sylar giggled insanely. "I'm gonna be like you, Pete."

Peter frowned. "Don't call me Pete. Only my brother calls me that, and you are not my brother. I thought I made that to you clear the first time around."

"I'm glad we're not brothers," Sylar replied, coughing wildly before he exhaled a puff of smoke, "Then, the fact that I'm attracted to you would be kind of weird, you know? I felt guilty for it before when I was, back when I thought we were brothers..."

"You've really be in to me that long?"

"Yeah," Sylar remarked, taking another gulp of whiskey, and then another shot of Everclear. Oh, fuck, Sylar was drunk. He was so drunk, he didn't even know what the hell was going on anymore, not even bothering to wonder why his healing ability wasn't working.

Then, a young man and young woman got on stage, and began to sing.

"Oh, I love this song!" Sylar shouted. He looked at Peter, and put his hands on either of Peter's shoulders. "It should be about us it should be about trust..."

Peter chuckled. "What's love...?"

"Got to do, got to do with it babe?" Sylar sang in response.

"What's love...? It's about us, it's about trust, babe. What's love...?"

"Got to do, got to do with it, babe?"

"What's love...? It should be about us it should be about trust, babe."

Sylar bowed his head, and laughed idly as Peter did the same.

Sylar brought the cigarette to his mouth again, taking another hit. "Smoking isn't as bad as I thought it'd be! Wheee~!"

Peter laughed out loud. "Yeah, well, you're drunk Sylar, so you'd probably drop acid at this point or snort blow or shoot Heroin or roll Ex."

"You're drunk, too," Sylar responded happily.

"Yeah, I am," Peter giggled, taking another large sip of his vodka on the rocks.

Then, Peter and Sylar both had another shot of Everclear.

"Hey, wanna make-out?" Sylar inquired.

Peter grinned. "Hell yeah."

Sylar and Peter leaned forwards, until their lips touched. Mouths opened, and tongues met. Peter slipped his tongue into Sylar's mouth, exploring every curve, every angle, before Sylar grunted, pushing his tongue back into Peter's mouth, trying to show the empath that he had more control over him than he had over Sylar. To prove his own point, though, Peter grasped Sylar's face, dipping hip down as he attacked Sylar's lips.

The bartender blinked.

Yeah, he was long overdue to cut these two off...

"So who out there's next?" the man on stage asked, "Come on, I know someone out there wants to sing!"

"I DO!" Sylar eagerly shouted, taking another shot before he put out his cigarette, clumsily running up to the stage.

Oh fuck.

No.

Just, no...

Sylar got on stage, and snatched the mic.

"Hi everyone, I'm Sylar, Gabriel Gray, the Boogeyman, or whatever the FUCK you want to call me!" Sylar shouted into the mic, "But you can just call me 'Gabriel' for now, because I'm feeling NICE TONIGHT! Yeah, people, yow yas doing?"

Everyone clapped out shouted from below the stage.

Sylar walked over and selected his song. "Peter Petrelli, get UP here. I need you to sing the girl's part!"

"But I'm NOT a girl!" Peter yelled from the bar, downing another shot.

"I know that, I just need you to sing the girl's part. Now, get your ass up here!"

Peter laughed out loud. Fuck, he was out of it. Peter downed yet another shot, stubbed out his cigarette, and then drunkenly ran up on stage to join Sylar. The stage man handed Peter an additional mic, as Sylar greeted the audience once again.

"Everyone this is Peter, Peter Petrelli, and he's my hot chick for the night."

Everyone really screamed at this.

Peter chuckled.

And the song began...

"Stole my heart on the dance floor, no way, can't leave no more. What am I supposed to do without you? To make you mine is all I wanna do. Step by step as I approach I say to myself 'I need a coach'. I know you used to be able to read my mind, you're the best that a man can find!" Sylar eagerly sang.

Peter brought the mic to his mouth, and sang, looking at the screen of lyrics before himself. What an appropriate song, since Peter _had_ used to be able to read Sylar's mind.

"I'll be your midnight blaze, brighter than the moon and stars, guide you through the cave of love! I'm gonna dance till the morning, take my place to shine. When you see the light is not from me, you know it's too late..."

The crowd danced and clapped wildly, chanting Peter and Gabriel's names as numerous flashing, colourful lights flashed about the bar.

"All night long you take the _lead_, stay with me you're all I _need_. _Please_ make this moment last, time is running really _fast_. Something tells me you must go. _Why_, I need to know! Do you think we will meet again? If not my future'll _never_ begin!" Sylar sang into the mic, before Peter held up his.

"I'll be your midnight blaze, brighter than the moon and stars, guide you thru the cave of love! I'm gonna dance till the morning, take my place to shine... When you see the light is not from me, told you it's too late, baby it's too late..."

And the song was over.

The crowd clapped wildly, as Sylar threw his hands up into the air while Peter bowed. They handed the mics back to the stage man, and then, jumped down off of the stage, returning to the bar. They finished their shots , whiskey, and vodka, trying to order some more, but, yeah... they had been cut off.

"Come back to my apartment with me," Peter silently requested.

"M'kay," Sylar replied, before he captured Peter's lips in another heated kiss of passion.

And so they caught a cab, and went back to Peter's apartment.

They finally made it up to Peter's floor, but all the groping and kissing they were doing was making it rather hard.

Finally, they made it inside, as Sylar slammed the door behind them one-handedly. Peter and Sylar made-out all the way to the bed, falling down upon it.

Peter landed on top, kissing Sylar eagerly before he ripped open the man's shirt, trailing kisses down his jaw-line, to his neck, and then his chest. Peter encircled his mouth around a nipple, nipping slightly, before sucking it into his mouth fervently.

"Oh Peter..." Sylar moaned, bucking back against him.

"Fuck," Peter gasped, grinding down into Sylar, "Fuck."

Peter leaned over Sylar, and kissed him again, their tongues exploring one another's mouths.

Then Sylar had to go and ruin it all by passing-out on the mattress.

Peter frowned, but decided that he could just screw Sylar in the morning. If he was sober enough, by then, that is. Peter was pretty near passing-out, too...

Peter lied down on the bed, pulling Sylar into his arms. He rested Sylar's head on his chest, and held onto him tightly.

"Love you," Peter whispered into Sylar's dark hair.

"Love you, too..." Sylar murmured back onto Peter's chest, barely audible. Then, he fell asleep.

Peter smiled, stroking a hand back through Sylar's hair.

And then, Peter passed-out, too.

The next morning, needless to say, Peter and Sylar were both pretty freaked-out. Peter had woken up first, exclaimed a loud "WHAT THE FUCK?!", before Sylar had promptly woken up, his head on Peter's chest. Then, Sylar had yelled-out "OH MY GOD!"

After that, they had gotten into a rather violent altercation. Peter had punched Sylar, before Sylar had punched Peter, and back and forth and back and forth until they both had matching, bleeding lips, blood trailing down their chins.

Pretty soon, though, they landed in bed, and began a rather heated make-out session as Peter smashed his lips against Sylar's, for no apparent reason.

Hangovers coursing through their veins, Peter had taken Sylar, before Sylar had then taken Peter. Afterwards, they took a shower together, before Peter took Sylar once again, and then, Sylar had gotten on his knees, taking Peter into his mouth, sucking feverishly.

Afterwards, the two had dried-off, and gotten back into bed, Peter's head now on Sylar's chest as Sylar held the smaller man in his arms.

"Best. online. chat. ever." Sylar said into Peter's dark hair.

"Seriously," Peter replied with a chuckle, kissing Sylar's chest several times.

"I love you..." Sylar whispered.

"Love you, too..." Peter murmured back, before he titled his head up as he and Sylar kissed again.

Indeed.

Best. online. chat. ever.

Minus Mohinder, Hiro, Noah, Luke, and Matt.

And for Peter, that included Ando, too.

***

**A/N:** ...Don't ask me what the fuck I was on when I wrote this. I was—am buzzed—but that's it. I joined 5drunkfics on lj because I am an alcoholic, so I enjoy writing about alcohol, and the fact that Peter currently possesses Rene's power was too good of an opportunity to pass-up. xD Finally, FINALLY Sylar could get drunk! I also know that this was rushed, and that it made no fucking sense, yes I do... My favourite part was probably Sylar's chats at the beginning with the various guys, and when Peter and Sylar sang 'Midnite Blaze', because that song is so them. Once I learn how to make music videos, I'm going to do a vid of them to that song, lmfao.

For those of you on ffdotnet, be sure to check out my fanfiction livejournal in my profile for more fics of Peter/Sylar, the NC-17 ones I can't post here. There's a lot of them, so be forewarned...

Please, do comment/review! If you have something nice to say, I will be pleased, but if you have something bad to say, I most certainly fucking won't. Again, I delete anonymous flames, and I block logged-in reviewers who flame, but, hell, at least logged-in reviewers who flame have the fucking guts to do so. Anonymous flamers are pussies who are too scared shitless to show themselves, and one of them flamed my friend here yesterday. I don't tolerate that, so fuck off, flamers! XD

Anyway, hope you liked the fic! See you all later, mwahaha...


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